Corrupted
by Casmoiraitiel
Summary: Season 6 finale continuation.  Castiel has given the Winchesters and Bobby an ultimatum.  Their lives hang in the balance.  Who is left to step in to save them?  Who can bring Cas back into the light?  Spoiler Warning  Angst/hurt/comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Spoiler alert – This story picks up with the end of the last episode of season 6. If you haven't seen it or haven't followed Supernatural, I apologize in advance.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, I just like making those boys dance.**

Sam, Dean, and Bobby stared between each other in disbelief. Had Castiel just said what they knew they'd heard? They were having trouble wrapping their minds around what had just happened. Crowley had disappeared and Raphael had been vaporized, just like Castiel had been by Lucifer at the graveyard. All of their nagging suspicions about Castiel had been confirmed. He _had _gone dark-side. He was no longer the warrior for good that he had been, his path having been corrupted in his ambition to do the right thing. In the absence of his Father, he'd made the wrong decisions, and now he stood before them, demanding that they kneel and profess their love to him in exchange for their lives.

Dean had tried his best to stay loyal to their friend. After all, Castiel had been their protector and their healer as well as their friend since they'd met him. He'd often put himself in harm's way for them, just as they had for him. They had been like family, there for each other through thick and thin.

Now he stood there in front of them, the serene half-smile gracing his ageless face as he waited for them to make their decision. With all the souls he had absorbed from Purgatory, he felt the raw power coursing through him. He felt the souls, each one as they provided him with limitless power. He was all powerful. No one and nothing could stop him.

"My patience is wearing thin with you, Dean," he commented softly, his deep voice washing over them. "Make your choice."

The elder Winchester looked away from Castiel, his eyes meeting those of his brother. _Sammy._ Sam looked so tired, his face lined with pain. He had showed up just as Castiel had killed Raphael, having woken up through whatever sleep Castiel had put him under. Even as they stood there, Dean could see the occasional flare come to life in Sam's eyes. The memories of Hell were threatening to overtake him. The wall was down and the memories were flooding through. Everything that Lucifer and Michael had done to his soul in the pit had been released at once into his mind and he was having to fight just to remain standing, trying to focus on the present.

The glance they shared seemed to speak volumes, and their surrogate father, Bobby, seemed to echo their sentiments as he stood between them, his eyes never leaving the face of the angel, now god, before them. They had made it so far from the beginning of their journey when their father had left them, leaving two frightened boys to chase in his wake. They had searched for him, and spent their days poring through the journal, finding clues and jobs their father had left for them to do, yet they'd always been two steps behind him.

That had bonded them together, their need to find their lost father, and the driving mission to find the yellow-eyed demon and receive vengeance for the horror he had visited on their family. They had lost their father achieving that goal, leaving only the two of them to clean up the mess that had been left in the wake. Hundreds of demons had escaped from the Devil's Gate, some that had proven most difficult to send back to Hell.

Ruby had swept them along then, addicting Sam to demon blood and unleashing the dormant demon powers that had laid within him since Azazel had killed their mother, the powers that would eventually be used to free Lucifer from his cage. She had kept him close, manipulating him even after Dean's deal had sent him to Hell.

That was when Castiel had came into their lives, reaching into Hell and pulling Dean from its depths. He still had the hand print emblazoned on his shoulder where the angel had gripped him tight. He could still occasionally hear the ringing in his ears from Castiel's first attempts to speak to him, the attempts that had shattered glass and all but leveled an old filling station.

The three of them had been with the angel through his continual struggles with his own humanity. They had been his guide as he'd struggled to find what was right, helping him stand up to his brothers. They'd been his comfort when it appeared his Father had abandoned him.

Castiel now considered their mistrust a betrayal, even though he knew he'd gone about achieving his new found power the wrong way. He should have trusted his first instinct and pushed Crowley aside, instead asking Dean for his help. Crowley's offer, however, had been very persuasive and he'd thought, at the time, he could double cross the demon without having to compromise his intentions. He'd been wrong, terribly so, but had achieved what he wanted in the end, keeping Heaven out of Raphael's control. He knew what was best. He knew what was there. Why shouldn't he step up to the un-captained helm?

"Cas," Dean murmured, tears swimming in his green eyes. He bit his bottom lip as a tear slid down his cheek. "I've loved you like a brother."

"I told you, Dean," Cas pressed, the softness of his voice belying the hardened meaning behind the words, "you are just a man. We could never be brothers."

He met Sam's mossy eyes again, hoping to convey all the brotherly affection he could in that brief moment, catching Sam's almost imperceptible nod, the go-ahead to say whatever was on his mind.

"We were brothers once, Cas, and I stood by you and fought for you even when Sam and Bobby were right. I wanted to believe that one angel could be good, that there was good in the universe somewhere." He knew he was walking on ice, treading a thin line where Castiel's patience was waning.

"I _am_ good, Dean," Castiel stressed, the serene smile growing brighter on his face. "Our father abandoned us and left us to our free will. Now you have someone you _know_ in control of the heavens, of your precious earth. Isn't knowing the ultimate peace? I am here, Dean. Profess your devotion and live. Profess your love to a living god."

"Your Father gave us a will to choose whether to serve him or not, son," Bobby growled, his eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Don't ya think it's a bit ballsy askin' for more than what He would?"

The serene smile faded from Castiel's face and he glowered at the old, grizzled hunter, advancing a pace or two forward. "I went to my Father, I confessed what I had done. If it mattered at all to him, do you think he wouldn't have stopped me?" He raised his arms wide, glaring defiantly at the three men. "Here I am. Savior of Heaven and Earth. Champion. Yet no one thanks me."

"You're playin' with fire, Cas," Dean took a step forward, raising his hand to try to ease the agitated angel. "Those souls are dangerous. That's too much power for your vessel to contain. Somewhere in there, you're still our friend, Cas. You're still the angel that risked everything to stand by us. You helped us stop the Apocalypse." He exhaled shakily. "Come with us. Crowley," he shook his head, "doesn't matter. We can work this out."

"I am...through with your little mind games, Dean." Castiel leveled a cold gaze at the man in front of him, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he were studying something that particularly annoyed him. "You have...degraded me, called me a child. You have used me and taken me for granted, even after I put all of Heaven on hold when you call for me. You do not deserve my reasons. Your only choices now are to obey or to die."

Dean raised his head proudly, feeling the collective, resigned sigh make it's way around the circle. "At one time, not too long ago, I woulda done what you asked me to, Cas. We all would have." He shook his head, cocking his jaw. "But not anymore. We will...not bow to you, Cas. No love, no devotion."

Castiel looked over Bobby, finding the same confirmation on his face. His eyes traveled then to the younger Winchester, who was barely standing on his own. "What about you, Sam? Your past can be forgiven. I can take your pain away."

Sam wavered, his hand finding his head as another memory overtook him. He whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut.

"No more of these memories of your year in the pit with Lucifer and Michael. You will be free to live your life. No monsters. No demons."

Sam clenched his free hand into a fist, his jaw trembling as he forced himself to look up into the inquiring eyes of the angel who had once been their friend. "My place, Castiel, is with my brother," he forced through clenched teeth.

Castiel slowly turned his back on the three, studying the symbols that had been drawn on the wall in preparation for Crowley's ritual. "This is the way it ends then." He cracked his knuckles.

"I guess so, Cas," Dean murmured, moving to stand beside his brother, wrapping a secure arm around his shoulders. He took Bobby's arm, standing stoically, ready to face his fate. "Just...one thing before you do what you're gonna do."

Castiel turned to face them again, his hand raised.

"I forgive you," Dean whispered, closing his eyes as a brilliant, white, searing light engulfed them. He didn't even hear himself scream.

**tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I woke up this morning to an inbox full of story alert adds and favorite adds for Corrupted. I must sincerely say: Thank you. An even bigger thank you for those of you who have commented (Xenascully, BranchSuper, supernaturalrenegade, SPN Mum, and JustShyOfMe). I always enjoy hearing your thoughts with what I'm doing. It gives me the encouragement to keep writing. Here's hoping you enjoy the rest of what I have to offer with this fic. And now...the next chapter!**

Sam sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, the effort burning fire through his chest. His throat was raw where he'd been screaming and his face felt swollen as it throbbed dully, as if he'd been hit hard. He raised a shaking hand to his cheek, blinking as painful prickling spread out from where his fingers came to rest. The memory of where they'd just been came flooding back to him. Castiel had raised his hand to kill them, enveloping them in a bright light. He'd never felt pain like that before, not even in the pit.

Fear filled his chest and he pushed himself awkwardly to his feet, forcing his eyes to focus. He had no idea where he was, no idea where Dean and Bobby were. Were they even still alive? Was he alive? Had Castiel actually sent them to some twisted form of Heaven? He looked down at his feet, noting that he was standing in a field of well-kept grass. His eyes continued to scan the ground, looking for signs of Bobby and his brother. He found the later almost thirty feet away, sprawled haphazardly on his back.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, he made his way across the flat field, falling to his knees beside Dean's limp body. Carefully, he gathered him into his arms, collapsing onto his rear as he held his brother tight. Relief flooded through him as he found the older Winchester breathing shallowly. There was still a chance that they were going to make it through this.

"Dean," he managed hoarsely, his voice scratching roughly through his raw throat. He shook his brother's still body gently. "C'mon, Dean. Wake up. We're still alive." He raised his eyes, continuing the search for Bobby as he continued to talk to his brother. They _were _alive, though he had no idea how and no idea where they were.

He looked down again as he felt Dean grip his arm, his body tensing as he regained his senses and felt fresh pain wash over his body. A deep groan tore from his chest as his eyes fluttered, bringing him fully into the present.

"Oh, God," he wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut.

"It's okay, Dean." He hugged his brother tight, feeling Dean snake his arm around his shoulders and grip into his jacket.

"Everything...hurts." He coughed, shifting more securely into his brother's embrace. "You okay? Where's Bobby?"

"I'm alright." He helped his brother to his feet, keeping his arm secured around his waist for support.

They stumbled together across the field, pushing through the crippling pain that threatened to drag them down again. The need to find Bobby drove them continually forward, their eyes gradually readjusting to the light. Castiel had nearly blinded them.

Bobby's body had found a resting place not too far from them and they fell to their knees beside him, bowing their heads thankfully as they found him breathing as well. They had all survived whatever Castiel had thrown at them. Dean looked up, fresh tears pouring shamelessly down his cheeks as he met his brother's eyes.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked, gripping handfuls of the soft grass, feeling anger and grief shake through him. "How are we alive?" Trembling, he bit his lip, waiting for some sort of divine revelation from his brother.

"I...I don't know," Sam stammered. "Where are we?" He peered around him, discerning that they were in an open field, his vision slowly returning to normal to reveal that the field stretched for miles before disappearing into the woods.

"Beats me." He moved closer to Bobby as the older hunter stirred, resting his hand on his chest to let him know he was there. "Easy there, Bobby." He wiped the tears on his face with the back of his free hand.

"Easy?" came the bitter response. "Feels like I been hit by a damn truck." He blinked sluggishly, finding Dean's face hovering not far above his. "Whaddya want? A kiss? Help me up, son."

"You alright then, Bobby?" Sam queried, taking the side opposite his brother as they hoisted Bobby to his feet.

"Reckon...I been through worse sometime," he grunted, swaying dangerously before he found his footing. "Where the hell are we?"

"Ass end of nowhere," Dean grumbled, turning on his heels to get a better view of what was around them. "There's nothin' for miles."

They stood together for what seemed like an hour, eventually feeling an ease up on the aches and pains that had plagued them since waking. Their breathing came easier as the pain gradually lessened and soon, the thought of walking didn't seem so much of a chore.

"So, did Cas zap us here or..." Bobby trailed off thoughtfully.

"No, I think he fully intended to kill us," Sam answered faintly, still dealing with his own personal demons even as his physical pain wore away.

"How you holdin' up there, Sammy?" Dean asked worriedly, moving closer to his brother.

Sam's hands came to rest on his hips and he shifted on the balls of his feet, shaking his head.

"Can I help?"

"Cas took down the wall, Dean," Sam whispered brokenly. "I...remember...everything." He looked up at his older brother, the lines of exhaustion rimming his tear-filled, hazel eyes. A deep sadness had settled over him and his skin had seemed to adopt an ashen color as if he were desperately ill. "I can...feel...everything." He hid his face in his hands, willing the flood of memories to stop.

"_Sammy."_ Protectively, Dean wrapped his arm around the younger man's shoulders, pulling him against him. He couldn't help but feel guilty now for refusing Castiel; Cas would have taken Sam's pain away if only Dean had said yes instead.

Helplessly, Sam wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, sobbing against his chest. He held to Dean as if afraid he was going to slip through his fingers and leave him there alone, alone to face the memories and the nightmares, leaving him begging for a friendly face, a friendly touch. Even the memories of soulless Sam, who had been with Dean for part of the time that Sam's soul had been in Hell, were no comfort. He felt the guilt of all the harm his body had done, of all the damage he had inadvertently done. He could feel each life he'd taken, each life he'd damaged. Soulless Sam had even almost killed Bobby, his second father, just to protect himself from having to deal with having the damaged soul placed back in his body.

Now they knew that it had all started with Castiel. Castiel had raised Sam from the pit, without his soul. Had it been on purpose? The angel had denied it, and Sam wanted desperately to believe him. At that time, Cas had still been their friend and ally. It was, however, impossible to tell how long he'd been working with Crowley. They knew now he had burned the wrong bones. Had it all been part of the plan?

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean choked, holding just as tightly to his brother. "I shouldn't have let you say yes to Lucifer." He felt Sam's grip tighten through his jacket. "I'm so sorry." His heart broke for his little brother. What he himself had experienced in Hell at the hand of Alastair couldn't be worse than what Michael and Lucifer did to his brother in the pit out of boredom, and Adam was still locked in there away from them, enduring the pain in Sam's place.

Bobby could only watch the two boys in silence, his heart breaking for the both of them. Nothing, it seemed, would ever be okay again.

**tbc...**

**Additional A/N: Check out my friend, Xenascully, if you haven't already. She's running a SPN fan fic convention in VA soon! Check out her page, her facebook page, or xenascully dot com for information. It'll be a blast! (She's also a great writer ~.^)**

**You can find me on facebook as well! Hope to see you there!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the continued support. :)**

Dean held tightly to his brother, feeling him breathe deeply to avoid the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He felt helpless. There was nothing he could do or say that would make the burden easier to bear. Castiel had raised Sam from Hell without his soul. Castiel had took down the wall that Death had supplied. Dean couldn't help but feel a new wave of anger overtake him. All of the emotional overload was taking it's own toll on him. He felt weak and drained. It was too much to bear.

Sighing, he looked over at Bobby, clearly searching for direction. "What do we do, Bobby? Where do we go from here?"

"Dunno, son," came the gruff response as the grizzled hunter took another scan of the terrain. "I guess we pick a direction and walk."

"Don't think we'd make it very far." He could feel his brother's grip tighten on his jacket. "He's had too much time to think." Keeping his brother's mind preoccupied would have been the only way to keep moving. The memories had been unhindered too long.

"Then we carry 'im if we have to. We need to find shelter. Food."

"Or you could just ask for help."

Bobby spun around, Dean looking over his shoulder as they heard the familiar, yet unexpected voice sound from behind them.

Balthazar stood only a few paces from them, the self assured smirk lighting his face, just as annoying as it had been before he'd joined their fight.

"Turns out that whole 'self preservation' thing fails when the one you're betraying ends up two steps ahead of you," he said, chuckling more to himself. "I must admit, that archangel's blade...it's quite ghastly."

"Cas...?" Dean couldn't bring himself to finish his question, feeling nauseated still at the ultimate betrayal.

"Oh, yes." Balthazar shook his head. "Dear old Castiel. He killed me, as it were."

"Then how are you here?" Bobby demanded. "How the hell are we here?"

"Both very...logical questions." The angel took a step toward them, a sudden serious demeanor clouding his face. "I must say, this is bigger than either you or I thought it ever would be. I think there's someone...or a few someones, I should say...that you should see." He placed his hands on Dean and Bobby's shoulders, taking them from the field.

In the blink of an eye, they found themselves in a garden, immediately recognized as Joshua's garden. They _were_ in Heaven, it appeared, at least now. Joshua stood, the same serene smile that had lit his face when they'd met him before affixed to his face. He gestured for them to follow, leading them further into his garden.

In the center sat a long table flanked by several chairs, three vacant on the closest side for them. Dean eased his brother down into the nearest chair, taking the one next to him in easy range for support. Bobby sank down on his other side, watching as Balthazar took a seat opposite them.

"Do be a champ and go fetch the others, will you, Joshua?" Balthazar murmured, waiting for the angel to disappear. "Now then, this is cozy, isn't it? I must say, I was a bit shocked at first, but it _is_ so much better this way."

"Where are we?" Bobby asked again, confused.

"Oh, _now_ you're in Heaven. The Garden, more precisely, where all roads lead. Before, you were in an empty pasture, somewhere in rural North Carolina."

"So we're...not dead," Dean ventured, not daring to form the question.

"Oh, yes. Very much alive."

He and Bobby heaved a sigh of relief, sitting back heavily in their chairs.

"I wouldn't be too relieved there, boys. After all, there's a lot of work to be done." Balthazar crossed his legs, sitting back comfortably in his chair. "However, I do believe that things...are going to be a lot better for us now."

Sam bowed forward, holding his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees, immediately drawing Dean's attention. The internal struggle was evident in the tension that had knotted through the muscles in Sam's body, leaving him tense and drawing in great gulps of air.

"I don't think our dear Cas thought that all the way through," Balthazar murmured, watching the younger Winchester with mild interest.

"Can you help him?" Dean asked, grasping for any assistance at all in helping his brother deal with the onslaught of memories.

"Me?" The angel seemed taken aback. "No, that's above my pay grade. Castiel did a lot of things he wasn't supposed to do."

"Is there anyone that can help?" Bobby queried instead, noticing the crestfallen look that overtook Dean's rugged face.

Balthazar held up a finger, silencing their questions with another slight smile on his face as footsteps were heard, several sets together as they came closer to the center of the garden. "Ah."

The footsteps halted at their backs, Dean and Bobby slowly turning their heads until they could see who had joined them. The newcomers filed around the table, taking their seats beside the already seated angel. Dean blinked, a moment of shock passing through him.

"Hello, Dean."

"Gabriel." His jaw worked as he tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. "Anna."

"The hell is goin' on?" Bobby growled.

"Oh, come on!" Gabriel exclaimed, sitting forward in his chair, a bright smile on his plain features. "You can't tell me you aren't happy to see me...what with all that 'stand up to your family' crap you fed me."

"Lucifer...fried you," Dean forced through a clenched jaw, his eyes focusing on the red-haired vessel he knew as Anna, "and Michael got you."

"There's something bigger than us at play here, Dean," she said quietly.

"Who saved us?" he spat.

"Have a little patience!" Gabriel laughed, throwing his hands behind his head as he relaxed back in his seat. "Or gratitude. Whatever."

Fuming and even more confused, Dean sat back, turning his attention back to his brother. He'd had enough of angels. He'd had enough of everything. His only intention now was to have his brother well again, whatever it took. Once that happened, he would be more than happy to be free of everything. There would be no more hunting, no more demon deals, no more end of the world. Not for them. After this was over, he would be happy to walk away from it all.

If he didn't deserve some peace after he'd been through, Sam surely did.

**tbc...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So mixed reviews on the angels. That's all good, lol. To supernaturalrenegade – I hope you continue to follow enough to form a different opinion. :)**

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean murmured, his hand resting on his brother's shoulder. "Keep it together. I'm right here."

Sam had managed to sit up long enough to see where they were, a brief moment where he was allowed enough clarity to focus on the present. He was surprised to see the three angels across from them, enough of a shock to keep him focused. Swallowing awkwardly, he looked over at his brother, confusion written all over his face.

"What's going on, Dean?" he managed, forcing another memory aside with a great effort.

"Dunno, Sam," came the response as Dean looked back across the table. "You okay?"

"I had to fight...I had to face soulless Sam...and the Sam who'd been in the pit...when Cas put me out." He clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from his grip. "Soulless Sam wanted to kill me...almost did, but I outsmarted him. The Sam who remembered Hell...just wanted to die. He was flayed...scarred...defeated. I remember everything." He never took his eyes from his brother's, silently begging for help, for release from it all. "I can feel everything."

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean hung his head. "I screwed this up, big time."

"I don't think you did, Dean."

The older Winchester looked up, his brows raised in blatant surprise. "Chuck?"

The man they knew as Chuck took his place at the head of the table, sitting back casually in his seat. He crossed his legs, folding his hands over his knees as he regarded those gathered. A small smile seemed to rest on his face, but didn't quite reach his eyes. In fact, he looked tired.

"I don't understand," Dean managed, feeling slightly nauseous. "What's goin' on here?"

"What's going on is...quite simple, actually," Chuck, considerably more well groomed than usual, answered. "You know me as Chuck, the accidental prophet...the one you've called for answers and advice when there's nowhere else to turn. In fact, I'm the one you should have turned to all along."

"God," Sam breathed, clutching his brother's forearm.

"I know," Chuck laughed, "a big step up from Moses and the burning bush."

It seemed to take an eternity for the news to process through Dean's mind. Chuck was, in fact, God, the very God they had been searching for. His absence was the very reason there was chaos in Heaven, the very reason that Castiel had found himself in the position he was in. Dismay and disbelief soon turned to anger, an anger that Chuck himself was all too familiar with.

"I know you're angry, Dean. I know what each of you have been through. You have each endured more than any man was meant to bear."

"You've been...leavin' Heaven to the will of the angels...letting them jerk us around like toy soldiers...lettin' them start the damned Apocalypse and play with our lives like they're nothing," Dean forced through clenched teeth, red rimming his vision as he looked defiantly toward the head of the table. "You've sat back and just...let everything happen...and we're..._I'm_ supposed to be okay with that just because you say that you _know?_" His fists clenched, knotting in the denim fabric of his jeans.

"No, you have every right to be angry," Chuck admitted. "I have been around since before the beginning of time. I guess you could say I was tired. I _am_ tired. The constant demands that I make changes to the way the world runs, the demand to start the Apocalypse and wipe the world clean of its sin, the loss of my sons to their own selfish greed...it was enough. Saying no wasn't enough. Several of my sons decided to break away...find their own path. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to sit back...and let them see where their actions would take them."

"You gave 'em enough rope to hang themselves," Bobby commented, careful to keep his own anger in check.

"Your 'sons' are dicks," Dean growled, unrelenting in his own rage. "And now, the best one you had...you ignored his prayers long enough for him to choke on his own damned ambition to save Heaven _and_ Earth." He felt his throat constrict in grief. "He thinks...he thinks he's gonna be the new God."

"Which is why I've returned," Chuck sighed. "I wanted to give Castiel a chance to prove himself, and he was doing so well. It...renewed my own strength...to see one of my sons so diligently working toward what I wanted. That's something I hadn't had in a very, very long time."

Dean exhaled shakily, feeling more tears sting his eyes, and he cursed himself for his weakness. "You're just gonna...jump back in the driver's seat and expect...everything to be okay?" He bit his lip, shaking his head. "There is no...pure good _anywhere_ in this world. Not anymore. Your angels took that away."

"There is a lot of work to be done," Chuck agreed, leaning forward against the table. "I know you're tired and I know you suffer." He rested a heavy gaze on the younger Winchester. "I _know_ you suffer, Sam. I am not blind to your pain."

"What do I need to do?" Sam whispered through his anguish.

"I will never rest more on your shoulders than what you can bear," came the reply, as gentle as a breeze washing over him. "If you ask for my help, it will be given to you."

"Then please," Sam managed prayerfully, his voice breaking, "please, help me, God."

**tbc...**

**A/N: Shortness intended. :) SPN Mum, you're so close to reading my mind that it's scary. :(**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Mixed reviews are okay. :) Just to let everyone know, I don't bite! (Hard) Thanks, as always!**

Sam stared blankly at his hands that rested in his lap, for the first time in a long time feeling peace. The anger that had fueled him for so long was sated; the memories were quiet though they were still there. It took the touch of his brother, a comforting hand on his shoulder, to settle him back in reality. Blissful, he looked over at his brother, his eyes free and clear of the pain that had plagued him since Jessica's death.

"How ya feelin', Sammy?" Dean asked gruffly, having watched the exchange between Chuck and his brother closely.

"Completely...okay," he murmured, a slight smile touching his face, showing the relief from his torment.

"The memories are still there," Chuck provided, "I can't take that away from you. You need to remember...to move forward."

"Whatever you've done," Sam breathed, leveling a thankful gaze at the familiar figure sitting at the head of the table, "whatever it was, thank you. It doesn't seem like enough."

Chuck returned Sam's smile, sitting forward against the table again, looking each of them in the eye. "I know that my decision to bring back these three seems a little odd, so please, allow me to explain." He waved a hand toward Gabriel. "Despite his disappearance from Heaven and his mingling with the pagan gods, Gabriel stood up to his brother _for_ the good of mankind. With most of the other arch angels following their own agenda and trying to claim my throne for themselves, Gabriel is the only one I feel I can trust."

The appointed angel smiled, for once, a completely sarcasm-free smile that reached his eyes. In the presence of his Father, he was contented.

"Anna has an insight into you two that I find invaluable. Though her ambitions were misplaced in her efforts to kill Sam here, she was, after all, attempting to do away with the evil that would play a heavy role in the Apocalypse." He offered Anna a small smile and nod before focusing on the angel at the furthest end of the table. "And Balthazar, of course."

"Do be gentle," the angel said, grimacing slightly.

"While completely selfish and looking out for no one but himself, he is the most resourceful of my sons. I do have use for such resourcefulness." Chuck clasped his hands on the table top before him. "We have a lot of rebuilding to do."

"What about Cas?" Dean finally demanded, his jaw working as if he'd been chewing on the question since Chuck had started speaking. "He wasn't plannin' on givin' up those souls anytime soon. Personally, I'm not gonna be able to handle killin' Cas."

Chuck raised a hand, quieting the older Winchester. "I have no intention of killing Castiel." He frowned. "I should have answered his call, but I wanted...I needed to see if he'd make the right decision. My sons have always...always questioned why I gave mankind the free will to choose to follow me. They have always been told what to do."

"Why did you give us free will?" Dean asked. "There would be none of this...religious nonsense if you'd just said 'worship me.'"

"Dean, Dean, Dean." Chuck sighed, shaking his head. "I figured you, of all people, would have understood the importance. What is more rewarding: being loved or being feared? I could have demanded worship, but I didn't. I would rather be loved. Man was created...for _fellowship._ You see?"

Silent, Dean simply nodded, looking away from the table, his eyes focusing somewhere above Anna's head.

"What are we gonna do about Cas?" Bobby ventured, his arms crossed across his chest.

Another silence overtook the table, and it was a long while before Chuck ventured to speak, his eyes narrowed slightly as he carefully chose his words. "A lot has been asked of you three, and I'm about to ask for more." He cleared his throat. "It is time for the angels to retire. All of them. Back to Heaven to get things in order here. It's time to get back to the basics."

"Where does that leave us?" Sam inquired quietly.

"That leaves us," Dean answered instead, "with stopping Castiel."

Chuck stood, moving to stand behind Dean's chair. "Yes, it does." He placed his hands on Dean's shoulders. "But not without a little help."

**tbc...**

**ADDITIONAL A/N:** **Again, shortness intended. I blame the set-up.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm sorry it's taken so long for the update. For those of you who haven't checked my other stories, my life is currently a bit hectic. I'm juggling writing two fanfics, three novels, and editing two novels for other writers. Interest with this one has also been a bit less, but I haven't forgotten you faithful ones nor have I forgotten where I started off with the intention to go for this. So, sit back...and (hopefully) enjoy.**

It was late that night before Chuck excused himself from the table, Joshua following quietly behind him to leave the six alone at the table. Exhaustion overpowered the three men moments later and they slumped in their chairs, too tired to lift their heads or form words to speak. This drew amused chuckles from Gabriel and Batlhazar, the latter leaning forward to study them across the table.

"You boys should be grateful that _that_ is the only side effect you'll suffer from being in His presence." He clasped his hands in front of him, smirking. "From what I understand, that Moses chap came away _completely_ gray headed from the experience.

Dean's eyes nervously shot upward toward his hairline, but he was found the thought of the effort of moving his arm too tedious, and the thought of finding a reflective surface, an impossibility.

He stood, pacing around the table to kneel beside the oldest Winchester. "So, what do you fellows say, hmm?" He raised an inquisitive brow. "You have everything you need. Go home, recover, take care of what must be done."

Sam flashed a thumbs up, speaking for all of them. Within the blink of an eye, they were back in Bobby's study, stumbling across each other to find the first place they could to sit. They ended up squeezed together on the seat by the window where Dean usually lounged while they were reading. A chuckle which passed for a grunt fell from Dean's lips as he studied their situation.

"Not gonna get much rest this way." He pointed to a spot on the floor. "I call dibs...and if either of you wake me up before I'm ready, so help me..." His knees found the floor as he slipped out of the chair and crawled to the spot against the wall, managing to shrug out of his jacket to make a pillow out of it. Dust billowed around him as he collapsed onto his back, groaning appreciatively at being stretched out fully.

Sam followed suit, curling up near the bookshelves, leaving Bobby to lounge on the window seat. The older hunter managed to reach to the side table, grabbing the bowl they had left, drawing the last symbol on the window to keep angels from the home. The bowl fell forgotten to the floor as darkness overtook him, sending him into a deep sleep.

**~8675309~**

Dean was the first to wake, the sunlight from the window washing fully over his face. He grunted, attempting to ignore the warm intrusion, but soon found himself pushing up into a sitting position, stretching fitfully. He felt refreshed after his grogginess had worn off, something he hadn't felt in quite a while, having gotten up every morning with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Grateful for the change, he pushed to his feet and made his way into the kitchen to feed his growling stomach.

The others soon found themselves rousing to the smell of frying eggs and meat, which inquiring noses soon found was bacon. Sam, scratching his stomach, made his way blearily into the kitchen, peering at the pans with great interest. He jumped as Dean clapped him on the back, thrusting a loaf of bread into his hands.

"Make yourself useful, Gigantor," he said with a slight smile, "make some toast."

Bobby rummaged through the cabinets until his hands found the plates, the ceramic clanking dully together as he stacked them to carry to the table. He sank into the nearest chair, yawning and stretching to wake the rest of his body. Breakfast was a treat, a breakfast that wasn't from a diner was rare.

"How long did we sleep?" Sam asked, popping bread into the toaster, taking another stretch as he waited, working his neck.

Dean checked his watch, "looks like we got us a full eight hours, boys. I think that's cause enough for a celebration. Huh?" Having spent most every day of his life only grabbing a few hours of sleep a night, eight hours of sleep felt like a vacation.

They ate heartily, no one having much to say as they made their way through several sandwiches each. There was no way they would let that rare moment pass without spending it in normalcy, talk of work kept away from the table. Work came after the dishes had been placed to dry and the brothers gathered in front of Bobby's desk as they had so often before. Sam had turned his chair backward, his arms resting in front of him as he straddled the seat. Dean lounged, almost spread eagle in the chair beside his brother, both men looking at Bobby expectantly, waiting for him to impart his wisdom to them.

"So, I wasn't dreamin' that, right?" the grizzled hunter finally asked.

They all exchanged heavy glances.

"Didn't think so." He sighed. "That was too much to hope for." He scratched his head, looking over at Sam. "How are ya feelin', son?"

Sam thought for a moment before a wide, genuinely happy smile lit his face. "It's...incredible. Like a new lease on life." Happy tears stung his eyes. "Ya know, I always thought that all this stuff would keep me from Heaven, but...I think this is my Heaven. Right now. My experience...of peace, for everything that's happened in my life."

Dean looked down at his lap, a sudden, morbid realization washing over him. The change in demeanor drew instant attention from the others, silently imploring him to speak his mind. A sad laugh escaped this throat and he shook his head. "I don't wanna be the one to spoil our mood here, but it kinda feels like...maybe this is supposed to be our moment of peace." He swallowed, cocking his jaw as he looked up into the eyes of his brother. "I don't think we'll live through fighting Cas, Sammy. Any of us."

The younger man frowned deeply, a flash of what his brother was feeling washing over him. "Maybe the story is supposed to end here, Dean. Maybe this is it. And ya know what? If it is, then I'm ready for it. For the first time in my life, I am completely at peace. I _know_ that there's hope." His frown easily became a smile, gently coloring his face. "So, let's go do this. Let's face this problem head-on, just like we always do."

"I'm for that," Bobby agreed, leaning back comfortably.

"Alright," Dean consented, casting his brother a smile. They stood, moving to pack their weapons, just as they always did, preparing, as they always did, for just another hunt. Dean paused his packing, looking over at Sam as if seeing him for the first time. "It's...It's great to see you happy, Sammy." He roughly cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the emotion that made his voice raspy with tears. "I mean, this is what I've always wanted you to feel."

"I know," came the reply, followed by a tight hug. Sam clung tightly to his brother, his fists clenched in the fabric of the jacket that Dean wore.

Slowly, Dean raised his hands to do the same, holding on to his brother for dear life. He didn't care, this time, that they were sharing one of the dreaded chick flick moments he so desperately tried to avoid. He didn't care that Bobby was in the room. All that mattered was that, in this moment, they were together and for the first time, Sam had a genuine smile on his face. "I love you, Sammy."

"Love you too, Dean," he replied, just as quietly, stepping back to study his brother.

Dean turned back to his duffel, his hands lovingly finding the sawed-off he'd discovered his father had kept, his first weapon. Today was a day of memories, of facing past, present, and future with open arms. While he was still angry with God, he seemed to have found a peace he couldn't explain, and it revolved around the burden that had been lifted from his brother's shoulders. In a way, it felt as if he'd been trying to carry Sam's pain for him, and now, that weight was gone. It was liberating.

Sam chuckled to himself, zipping up his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. He turned his long frame, studying the room. This room, where the three men had spent countless hours pouring over ancient texts, sewing up wounds, making battle plans; this room that had been leveled time and time again by the witnesses, demons, and angels; this room encompassed everything. It was an infirmary, a safe house, a supply store, a knowledge center, but most of all, it was home. At least, it was the closest thing to a home that the boys had ever known.

"You boys about ready?" Bobby called from across the room, lifting his own bag.

Dean sighed, sliding the sawed-off into his bag and turning around. "Yeah, Bobby. We're ready."

They left together, the door to the house slamming shut behind them, seeming to put a finality on their trip that sobered them. There was no need to take two cars, so the three men slid quietly into the waiting Impala, apparently another thing that had been fixed during their time in Heaven, Dean holding the steering wheel in his hands as the car fired to life, purring loudly. A small smile lit his face; if there had been one thing in his life that he could count on, it was his car, his baby. It held most all of his memories, good and bad. There was no telling how many people in his life had actually sat in this car with him at some point. It seemed endless.

Dean pulled out of the graveled driveway and onto the main road, heading back to the place where they would find Castiel, heading back to the place that Dean had completely lost all faith that there was good in the universe. No one had much to say, so the miles passed in relative silence, each man lost in reflections of his own life. Had they lived like they were meant to live? Sure, mistakes had been made all around, but they were all here, together, as a family. At the end of the day, wasn't family what mattered?

The older brother reached over, sliding his Metallica tape into the deck, grinning as the rock music flooded through the car. Even though he'd complained about Dean's music choices for most of his life, Sam found himself nodding along to the music, his hand tapping in rhythm against his thighs as the drive wore on. None of the trivial things seemed to matter anymore.

Late afternoon brought them back to where Castiel had given them the ultimatum, and they descended the stairs slowly, weapons held at the ready, expecting to see the trench-coat clad angel-turned-god standing just where they'd left him. Instead, they stepped down into an empty room, devoid of the markings that had been on the wall and devoid of the gore that had been Raphael's body.

Bobby lowered his gun, his eyes traveling slowly over the room. "Well, that was a bit of a let down," he grumbled, putting his back against the wall.

"Cas!" Dean called, drawing back the hammer on the colt and lowering it to his side, ready to fire. "Castiel!" He took a pace back, looking around the room. "We're here, Cas. Waitin' on you. So c'mon down, wherever you are, buddy."

The tell-tale flutter of wings sounded and Castiel appeared in front of them, standing in the place he'd stood before, his face expressionless as he stared directly at the older brother.

"Have a nice siesta there, Cas?" Dean taunted, his hand shifting the grip on his gun.

"You know that thing will have no effect on me, Dean," Castiel retorted, his eyes flashing briefly to the Colt. "Don't be stupid." He held out his hand.

"There's somethin' you don't know, Cas," he paused as he heard the hammer draw back on Sam's sawed-off, a smile darting across his face."

"I know all, Dean," Castiel all but snorted, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised. "I don't think you do."

A slightly uncharacteristic pinch formed between Castiel's eyes as he regarded the younger brother. "You are different, Sam. Healed."

"Yeah," he laughed quietly, "you could say that." He raised his gun.

Castiel looked back to Dean, who had leveled the Colt at him. "Daddy's back, Cas, and daddy ain't happy. It's time to give up those souls, now, before you or anyone else gets hurt."

"Things...can _never_ go back to the way they were before, Dean," he snapped, accusation written all over his face. "If he's '_back,'_ then why isn't he standing here to stop me himself?"

"Because he's disappointed in you, Castiel," Sam murmured, "just like a father would be."

The younger hunter's words appeared to strike a chord and Cas narrowed his eyes, unabashed rage running awash through his very being. This new, powerful emotion seemed to spur his motions and raw energy surged, flowing through his arm to blast into the hunters, their forms disappearing in the radiant light.

Time seemed to stop in that moment, the light filling the room. Castiel, himself, seemed to be free to move and he stood back, observing his motions, watching the light, imaging where the three men had stood. He was paused in this moment of death, the last tether he had to his former self. A sudden grief clutched him, a realization that he'd just taken away the last little bit of true good in the world, the last piece of chivalry and selfless sacrifice there was to be found. Through all impossibilities, these men had stood by his side, depending on him, helping him, going where he could not, and doing what he could not do. He felt a grief deeper than any he'd felt before, the grief that came with loss, a loss that could never be recovered from.

Dean might not have been an angel, but he had been the closest thing he'd had to a brother, a true brother, who felt things and wasn't afraid to share. Even though he'd wanted to agree, he felt his new identity holding him back, the pride that came with his new found power, refusing to let him back down and admit he was wrong. After all, he'd done what he accomplished. He had stopped Raphael, and in the process had saved Heaven and Earth. Crowley was on the run. The Winchesters and Bobby had been his only remaining obstacle, the only thing left standing between him and what he felt had to be done. His father had left him no choice.

"This is your fault," he said, his voice low and lined with anger. "You did this, _Father_. How many of your sons and daughters have I had to put out of the way to keep Heaven safe in your absence? How many more have to die before you'll answer...the call of your son?" His eyes narrowed and he looked Heavenward, his voice raising in protest. "If you're back, why aren't you answering _now_?"

Receiving nothing for his efforts, he nodded, taking a pace or two back from where he stood. He bowed his head, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side. There was nothing left to stop him from taking his place. He was at the top, and he was, now, alone.

He looked back toward the mayhem in front of him as the smiting light slowly faded...

**tbc...**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: And now, the final chapter. Thanks for your kind reviews. :)**

Castiel found himself reeling backward as a hard fist connected with the side of his face. He tasted blood as his back found the wall. Stunned, his breath catching in his chest, he stared wide-eyed toward where the blow had came from.

A figure had separated itself from the light, seeming to glow of its own accord, brighter than the fading, smiting light. Two more figures stepped forward, flanking the one who stood in the front. The hunters. They had survived. The thought made Castiel's head spin.

"I told you, Cas," Dean spoke, stepping forward until he came into view, the light fading from everything but his eyes, "I don't wanna do this." His voice quavered slightly. "We still...need you, Cas. You're still our brother." He held out his hand as if expecting Castiel to reach out and take it. "It's not too late to save yourself."

Silence passed between them as the angel regarded his long-time friend. He found himself at a loss. He was wounded. Left alone for so long, fending for himself, he found himself struggling to believe that his Father was back in control. Now that he had all the power of the universe coursing through his veins, he was reluctant to let it go. Yet, with all the power of the universe, he'd found himself unable to level the three men.

Dean remained as he stood, his hand stretched imploringly out to Castiel. "C'mon, Cas."

Decidedly, the dark-haired angel knocked Dean's hand aside, his eyes blazing. "He _abandoned _me." He stood straight, adjusting his trenchcoat. "The universe needs a leader who's not going to grow tired and abandon everything to its own fate. I _am_ that leader."

Sam's jaw worked as he thought back to his own father and the pain that he and his brother had been through. "No, Cas, you're not." Sadness seemed to seep from his body, permeating the air. "You're too good for that."

He blinked. "Too good?" He pushed himself away from the wall, his fists clenched at his side.

Dean couldn't help but notice the defiance that squared Castiel's shoulders. He'd felt it too, so many times before, like when his father would stumble in after months on a hunt, having left him and his brother alone, leaving them to learn how to fend for themselves at such a young age. Love had always won out though, and the defiance had left him as soon as he'd been able to look upon his father's face. No matter how many times he'd left them, he'd always came back, and deep down, Dean had always known it was for the greater good. A sudden understanding washed over him as he drew the parallels between his father's work and what God had done. For the greater good, God had stepped aside. He'd left the angels to discover how the universe worked, left them to their own devices to show them what He constantly dealt with in hopes that they would find that what He did wasn't easy.

"C'mon, Cas," he asserted again. "Let's end this now."

Castiel knocked the hand aside, a cold anger fueling his movements as his fist connected with Dean's jaw, knocking the young hunter back against his brother. Quickly rebounding, Dean returned the blow, landing a hard punch to the angel's midsection.

Bobby and Sam found themselves pushed out of the way, shoved against the wall as Dean and Castiel duked it out in the middle of the room, their blows landing with bone-crushing force. This wasn't their fight, not yet. The two who faced each other had their own problems to work out, their own frustrations and fears.

Dean matched Castiel punch for punch, drawing blood and tasting his own blood in his mouth. His knuckles were raw, bruised, and torn, bleeding even as they made contact with his target. Castiel's was no better, blood staining the tan of this trench coat and dotting his white shirt. Yet the fight continued, angry yells filling the air.

The older Winchester stumbled backward, his back finding the ground as Castiel kneed his midsection and knocked his feet from under him. The angel towered above his prey, his face almost unrecognizable. Dean quickly swept his legs around, knocking the angel off balance so he could scramble to his feet, regrouping only a few steps away.

Panting, he watched Castiel pace slowly toward him, calculating the distance and his best angle for attack. He rushed forward, catching Cas around the middle and ramming him against the wall, winding his opponent.

While he had the advantage, he pummeled his fists against the angel's ribs, feeling them give in protest to the abuse, feeling the crack beneath his knuckles. Castiel cried out, pushing himself from the wall and driving Dean back, landing an uppercut to his chin that sent him flying across the room.

"Dean!" Sam cried, his eyes wide as time seemed to slow. His brother's body found the floor hard and was still. He started to run to his brother's side, but found himself face to face with Castiel, the cold blue eyes seeming to pierce him to the soul. "Cas, no." He tried to push past him, only to find his knees as pain flooded through his gut.

"What's the matter, Sam? This is what you wanted, remember?" Cas spat, drawing back to land another knee to the younger Winchester's face.

Bobby rushed forward, then, his hands grasping the trench coat as he roughly yanked Castiel aside, attempting to throw him away from Sam as the younger man regained his footing. Cas' fist connected with Bobby's jaw, the crunch of breaking bones echoing across the room. Sam sprinted to his aide, his shoulder down low to catch the angel in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Sam straddled him, one hand fisted in the fabric of the angel's shirt, the other pummeling repeatedly into his face. Rage had turned his vision red, and he was oblivious to all that was happening around him.

Bobby, dizzy and in pain, stumbled to the older brother, finding the Colt laying only inches from his hand. He grasped the gun in a shaking hand, pulling back the hammer again and leveling it toward the two figures struggling across the room. Castiel had managed to find his feet again, swaying dangerously as he squared off against Sam. Without hesitating, Bobby squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet directly into Castiel's shoulder. The familiar hum of electricity filled the air as it made contact.

Stunned, the angel looked down at the would, his eyes widened in shock. He looked back to Bobby, and down at the Colt. "Impossible."

Unable to speak, the grizzled hunter merely trudged back across the room, drawing back the hammer again, the look on his face seeming to speak volumes. _This is your last chance, Cas._

Sam moved quickly over to his brother, kneeling beside him. Dean's face was swollen, his eyes blackened, his nose oozing blood. It was impossible to tell if anything had been broken. Worried, he drew Dean into his arms.

"Come on, Dean, wake up," he murmured, checking for a pulse. He exhaled gratefully when he found his heart pumping strongly. Absently, Sam wiped at his brow, swiping away the blood that was dripping toward his eye.

"F've m're minu'es," Dean wheezed, his eyes cracking open slightly.

"Don't have five minutes, Dean." He offered his brother a hand up, steadying the semi-unconscious man on his feet. "You good?"

Another shot went off, catching their attention as Bobby's limp body slid to their feet, a very pale and shaking Castiel lowering his hand across the room. Cursing, Sam dove for the Colt that laid between them on the floor only to find himself being flung effortlessly backward, his head making contact with the hard wall, leaving him out cold.

Woozy and disoriented, Dean could only attempt to put one foot in front of the other, hoping that his balance held long enough to bring him toe-to-toe with Castiel. His breathing labored, he laid his hand on the angel's shoulder, peering into the cold eyes of what might be his death.

"This it, Cas?" came the eventual question, the words almost slurred beyond understanding. "This how it ends?"

"Yes, Dean." He drew back his fist. "This is how it ends." With all the force he could muster, he attacked his opponent, only to find the blow deflected.

Dean brought his own fist forward, connecting with Cas' nose, blood spurting beneath his hand. He drove his head back, his knee finding contact with his solar plexus, immobilizing the angel.

Unrelenting, Dean carried the momentum through, ignoring his own pain as he landed the finishing blow to the side of Castiel's face, drawing back to find that the angel laid lifeless beneath him. Grief clutching at his heart, he pushed himself to his feet, fishing in his pocket for a slip of paper before moving to the wall. Using his own blood, he began to draw, glancing back occasionally to make sure that Castiel was still down.

"I'm sorry, Cas," he murmured, double checking his work. He took a steadying breath, recalling what Chuck had told him the night before. Slowly, he reached his open palm down over Castiel's body, feeling the power surge through him. "Iagnua magna purgatorii, clausa est ob nos..." He felt the power of the souls flowing to him, just as he'd been told they would. The sensation was incredible. "Iagnua magna, aperta tandem!"

The room shook as the door to purgatory began to open beneath the blood spell that Dean had drawn. The older Winchester clenched his fist as he felt the last soul leave Castiel's body. It was easy to see now why Castiel had been so adamant about keeping them. The power was unbelievable. It was, however, not meant for the human body. Even with all the power alive inside him, he could feel his body giving way. It felt as if he were unraveling.

Forcing himself to concentrate, he purged the souls from his body, his head rushing as they were pushed back into purgatory. The ground shook, the walls swayed and cracked, and the door sealed itself, leaving them alone.

**8675309**

Dean groaned, knocking Sam's hand away as he felt the sting of the whiskey against his open wound. "What're you tryin' to do? Kill me?"

"Don't be such a baby, Dean." Sam returned to the task at hand, the needle glinting in the sunlight that filtered through the window.

"Not bein' a baby," he grumbled defiantly, hissing through his teeth as the needle made contact with his skin.

They'd woken to find themselves back at Bobby's house with no sign of Castiel. Sam had assumed one of the angels had been sent to clean up the mess, but they had neglected to heal them. With much grumbling and groaning, they'd pushed themselves upright to find what first aide supplies they had. Bobby had been thankful to find that his jaw wasn't broken, which he suspected might have been Balthazar's doing. While still swollen and painful to talk through, he'd mumbled something about Balthazar and ijgit, drawing a chuckle from the younger Winchester.

Sam sat the needle down, tying off the dental floss stitch that closed off the last gaping wound on his brother's side, rocking back on his heel. Silence fell over the room then as the three men looked over each other, seemingly at a loss. It had felt like they were marching to their doom, yet here they were again, albeit much worse for the wear.

"I guess this means we're not done yet, huh?" Sam asked, looking down at his hands.

Dean sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the window seat. He ran his shaking hand through his hair. "We're never done, Sammy. I have a feeling the fun is just beginning..."

**Fin!**

**A/N2: Well, that's that. More written for my benefit. If you're interested, this is the purgatory spell in full, complete with source. (Please excuse me, I tried to correct some of the Latin, but I'm terribly out of practice). However, leaving then ending open for a one-shot sequel. :D Hopefully, you'll come back to find out what happened to Castiel!**

_Iagnua magna purgatorii_

_Clausa est ob nos_

_Lumine eius ab oculis_

_Nostris retento._

_Sed nunc stamus ad limen huius_

_Ianuae magnae et demisse_

_Fideliter perhonorifice_

_Paramus aperire eam._

_Creaturae terrificae quarum ungulae_

_Et dentes nunquam tetigerunt_

_Carnem humanam aperit fauces_

_Eius ad mundum nostrum nunc._

_Iagnua magna_

_Aperta tandem!_

-_from fanpop (dot) com_

_**See you next time!**_


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